


Mr. Barrow's Gamble

by Buntheridon



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Bi-Curiosity, Blow Jobs, Drinking, Eventual Romance, Flirting, I’m no Brit or otherwise native nor a historian but I’ll do my best, M/M, No Angst, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:41:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21513193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buntheridon/pseuds/Buntheridon
Summary: After re-re-re-watching the whole series for the movie I got inspired by this oldie and goldie theme. An alternative version where O’Brien isn’t involved at all, Thomas decides to go kiss Jimmy on his own that fateful night and Alfred walks in on it like it happened in canon. Thomas has his game on and Jimmy is starting to yield. Around S3 E7 onwards with my own changes to the events.(Edit. I wish someone wrote a fic about Thomas with his royal dresser boyfriend :)) I'm so happy for them.)
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent
Comments: 33
Kudos: 159





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Throwing this short first chapter here so I’ll eventually have to continue the story.

It was the next day after the nightly kiss gone wrong. Thomas Barrow was shaken and slightly scared but he hid it well. He had tried to be friendly with the younger men but Alfred was glaring at him with disgust across the breakfast table and Jimmy - beautiful, alluring Jimmy - was acting like he had just discovered heterosexuality. He even dared Carson’s morning wrath with his theatrics.

The thing was, Thomas sensed the boy was in turmoil and that was encouraging. Not of the incident as such but because he really had been teetering on the verge of an epiphany these weeks. Thomas had slowly but steadily edged closer and poked and prodded his prey, always careful not to step over the line from veiled innuendos to straightforward flirting. Much.

The aggressive posturing as a “red-blooded male” at the breakfast was such an exaggeration even some of the women seemed unimpressed.

As Mrs. Hughes later pointed out to Mr. Carson, Jimmy _was_ an incorrigible flirt - with everyone. The young man himself didn’t know which way to turn today though. He liked girls, he did, and he’d chased the prettiest ones ever since he had come to realize the effects of his good looks. But for some reason the dark older man with his mysterious air, velvety baritone voice and suggestive glances had started to appeal to a previously unknown side of him. Before this he would have considered a handsome chap like that a _competition_ but now he felt himself the one being chased. And that was in equal parts flattering, terrifying… and tempting, which made the whole matter all the more terrifying. _I can’t be a poofter! That’s impossible!_

He had pushed Thomas away last night because Alfred had marched in the room. And because he had been surprised and startled. But had he been appalled, truly? He remembered the feel of those lips against his and he had to suppress a shudder that was heading towards his groin.

”What’s the matter with you both? You were in a dream all through dinner!” Carson bellowed to Jimmy and Alfred when they were serving the snacks and wine later.

”Nothing's the matter!” he snapped trying to hide his discomfort and heard Alfred huff under his breath. He had convinced the red-headed giant with his protests, but it was still uncomfortable that the other knew what had been done to him. His vanity was suffering whether or not he had liked the unwanted kiss. And he wasn’t ready to admit that yet – wouldn’t that make him girly and weak?

Throughout the day he’d avoided Thomas and tried not to think about him. It didn’t work. He was on and off halfway erect in his trousers and the effort of wishing it soft was taking all his concentration. If he were to appear in such a state in front of the Crawleys he’d die of shame and Mr. Carson would still probably sack his every way rigid corpse for indecency, involuntary or not. His tombstone would be covered in bad references instead of flowers. God himself would shoo him downstairs even in the afterlife.

The young footman stood to attention while the posh family talked around a table of maps and sipped their drinks. His mind betrayed him in that idle moment and flashed images of Mr. Barrow’s wry lopsided smile and piercing eyes, and when he recalled the featherlight touch of his gloved hand on the skin of his neck it hit him right in the loins like tiny local lightning. He straightened his back and concentrated in going through cricket rules and counting backwards from 50. That was complicated enough for him to appear calm.

After the family had retired and Jimmy had done his chores he migrated to the servants’ hall, tired and just wanting a warm cuppa before turning in. In hindsight he should have just sneaked to his room but he somehow thought _he_ wouldn’t dare to be there. 

Oh but how wrong he was. Thomas had the audacity to sit there in the separate chair by the fire, smoking and reading the newspaper like he always did. Ivy was also there at the end of the table with her magazine of high life of cinema stars. Mr. Barrow lifted his gaze when the younger one stepped into the room like he had a magical sense of his whereabouts.

And the look in his eyes was neither remorseful nor humble, far from it. He looked like he just _knew_ what had been going on in Jimmy’s head the whole day. A smug smile tugged at the corner of his mouth while he all but devoured him with his eyes. _The bugger dares!_ The young man was about to turn around, but Alfred inadvertently blocked his way. Thomas lowered his eyes back to the paper schooling his face innocent.

“What ever’s the matter wi’ ya?” Ivy demanded rhetorically thinking they were starting the morning’s staring matches again. She made a face and left for upstairs.

“I’ve a mind to report you, Mr. Barrow, I have,” Alfred declared.

“Of what? For pulling a little prank? Like you never did anything for a laugh.” He cocked his head slightly and let a little sneer slip onto his pretty face. “Oh, but you _do not,_ do you? You are such a serious feller you think everything that isn’t work or study is a crime. No wonder Mr. Carson fancies you, in thirty years you’ll be _just like him.”_ He heard Jimmy chuckle at the mockery and it encouraged him in a very satisfying way.

“I’ve apologized to James for waking him up. I think that’s enough of that.” He returned to his newspaper hiding expertly the slight tremble of his hands. That was a bold gambit but it might just work if his hunch about Jimmy’s inclinations was correct.

After uncomfortably silent thirty seconds there was a huff and the sound of shuffling feet retreating from the room. 

_“You’ve got some nerve,”_ he heard Jimmy mutter. He glanced up pretending to be surprised the other was still there. Their eyes met and there it was, a shaky acknowledgement – albeit seasoned with objection, fear and annoyance. Thomas could swear the air _sizzled_ when the blond boy kept his gaze against his obvious discomfort.

“How so? Do you really want me to apologize, then?” He juggled finding a tone between _‘are you seriously this hurt you sissy’_ and _‘try me and I’ll kiss you again’,_ which was hard but he seemed to succeed at least partially since Jimmy blushed and lowered his eyes hurriedly. Thomas inhaled sharply for that sight sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine.

“Don’t patronize me, Thomas. Just - don’t.” He was off before the older man realized he had used his Christian name. Belatedly his chest swelled with some kind of joy, probably related to the subtle swelling elsewhere in his body.

_He’s proud and he wants to stay in control. But he could be swayed, if his manliness isn’t put into question._

_I can work with that._


	2. Chapter 2

”Hello, Jimmy.”

He had sneaked outside to have a smoke break and of course his tormentor happened to be there already. Thomas was leaning on the wall in a relaxed manner like he owned the place, and right at this moment he did, in a way. Him simply being there made it impossible for the younger man to concentrate on anything else, vexing as it was to admit to a thing like that. But he couldn’t just turn around on his heels every time he saw him, that would be admitting they had a problem. Or something even more serious going on.

”Mr. Barrow,” he muttered, nodding, trying to hide the effect the older man had on him. He leaned his back on the wall as well, close enough not to seem hostile, far enough to have some breathing space. He lit his cigarette and to his horror his hands were shaking. 

Glancing to his side under the shade of his lashes he saw Thomas smile to himself, eyes half closed, not looking towards him. Had he seen it? He wasn’t sure but it wouldn’t surprise him, the bugger was a master of espionage and pretence. Jimmy watched as the dark-haired man sucked on his cig deeply, opened his beautiful lips inhaling air with a soft gasp, then letting the smoke flow out his nostrils and mouth slowly until he made a smoke ring or two with the last puffs. The movement of his throat while doing that was especially obscene for this particular onlooker. Jimmy was mesmerized, half conscious that every gesture might be seductive on purpose. They had smoked dozens of times together, for crying out loud – why did he now feel these weird little jolts every time those lips enclosed around the white roll of paper and tobacco? 

The lips that had brushed against his, however briefly. And now they were making him think unspeakable things.

“Everything all right, lad?”

He was startled by the low, quiet question. There was an edge to Thomas’ voice that made the boy think of predator animals in India that he had read about in some paper. Elegant and dangerous, prowling towards their unsuspecting prey in near silence. Synchronously he turned his eyes away when the other finally looked towards him. Jimmy’s cheeks were burning. _What the hell is happening?_ Why’d he let himself be captivated like that, and by another bloke no less? 

“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

The chuckle told him everything about his tone of voice failing to sound nonchalant or not defensive. _For fuck’s sake, how can he make me feel like a cornered mouse?_ He smoked some more in haste and tried to calm himself, choking in the tension that was winding tighter between them. The things his imagination had tortured him with last night while he had tried to fall asleep all came rushing back and a whine escaped his throat. Jimmy had no clear idea about what the pansies did together but to his oversensitive and strung out nerves even the thought of Thomas touching his thigh had been enough to stiffen him under the blanket. He had refused to relieve himself and boy, what a mistake that had been. Now he was rock hard in broad daylight, Thomas was _right there_ and soon he’d have to go back in to serve lunch. 

The knowledge that the older man would probably do whatever indecent things he’d dare to ask was making his head reel and his cock weep. And that right there was an abomination. He would have to put a stop to these thoughts. He was lucky he wasn’t a particularly religious person himself but that wouldn’t save him from other people’s judgement. 

And he didn’t want to lose the attention all the girls were giving him, no way!

“Oh I don’t know, by the look of you you’d better ask Carson to give you your half day early.” To Jimmy’s absolute horror Thomas was looking straight at his crotch, head cocked in an admiring sort of way and the hunger and the smugness about his smile made the young man’s blood boil – but not in anger. He opened his mouth to speak but then stopped, realizing anything he said would just worsen the situation. Thomas raised an eyebrow, dropped his cigarette on the ground, stomped on it and stepped in front of the quivering young man. Not too close, there might be people around, but close enough for it to be a clear message. A suggestion.

“Too bad mine’s not today or I’d come help you with your… _trouble.”_ His voice was so low it almost felt like a caress. He blew the last of the smoke from his lungs on Jimmy’s face, their eyes locked. The blond man barely held in the gasp and furrowed his brow in conflict.

“I said I’m... fine, Mr. Barrow.” He cursed inwardly at his hoarse voice.

 _Dear Lord he’s beautiful,_ Thomas marvelled, yearning to press his lips against Jimmy’s again, this time without interruptions and with the boy’s ardent willingness. He remembered what he looked like under that shirt, hairless and fit like a sportsman. He could imagine what his skin felt like, warm and smooth and firm under his touch. Oh, Thomas was half hard in his trousers as well but he’d adjusted himself so it wouldn’t show as much. 

Nothing was more titillating than to see his flirting pay off in a grand way. He would just have to be patient and cunning. He gave a meaningful glance towards that shapely mouth and stepped back.

“And so you are. If you’re up for a card game or two when the day’s done, come ask me. Unless, of course, you prefer solitaire.”

“What’s that then?”

“It’s what the Americans call _patience.”_

The possible double meaning behind both words sank in after the older man had gone inside.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The teasing continues.

Despite his bravery Thomas wasn’t so confident in his charms that he would leave the next step solely on Jimmy’s shoulders. The societal norms, the secrecy of the whole matter and the novelty of the temptation were probably all too pressing for a first-timer so he made it easier for the boy and set himself at the end of the servants’ hall table that night, cards at the ready, smoking leisurely. O’Brien was mending a shirt at the other end of the long table; recently released Bates was conversing quietly with Anna in their usual spot. They’d all retire to their rooms in an hour or two – everyone was more or less tired after the usual long day but some of them didn’t want to go to sleep just yet; that would mean the morning and yet another working day would be upon them so much sooner.

He heard Alfred and Jimmy ask for tea in the kitchen and Ivy laughing at them that they could boil their own tea, thank you very much, to which Daisy said she’d make some. _He might not dare to come play with me if that daft giant of a boy is here._ Jimmy had marvellously acted like nothing was amiss and it seemed Alfred had believed it and dropped the case, teasing not being his style at all.

The young men appeared in the middle doorway holding teacups, jovial and seemingly relaxed. Thomas knew Jimmy didn’t like Alfred either but it was sensible to stay on good terms with him. And it was probably part of all that masculine posing to save his hide. 

Jimmy glanced at the table’s end and stiffened slightly, averting his eyes immediately. He had managed to go through the day without really focusing on the suggestion the older man had thrown at him. Every time his mind started poking the matter he had busied himself with something or started a conversation with just anyone who was at hand. He had flirted with so many maids today there was bound to be trouble later on. The long periods of standing still while the family dined were the most difficult and he’d never ever counted as far in numbers and letters and farm animals as today. 

He took a sip of his hot tea and sat down across from the valet and lady’s maid. Alfred sat beside him. With a nonchalant side glance he saw Thomas start to shuffle the deck of cards. Oh yes, that had been the pretext. Would Alfred think him too forgiving if he agreed to play after the so-called prank? Or would it be the opposite, if he held a grudge for too long wouldn’t that reveal the prank had been something serious? He wasn’t sure if the redhead had really swallowed their show of explanation, although Mr. Barrow had been damn convincing at it. The guy should start a career as an actor. Or a politician. All this thinking too much was starting to make Jimmy’s head ache.

“Would anyone like to play? The night is still young.”

Alfred huffed almost contemptuously. “Not me, Mr. Barrow. I don’t trust you not to cheat.”

“You tell him,” O’Brien applauded, not lifting her eyes from her work. Ever since her nephew had joined the Downton staff she hadn’t been that keen on scheming anymore, except maybe for better career prospects for the tall boy.

Thomas took a puff from his cigarette and placed it back on the side of an ashtray. Trying not to sound as mean as he always wanted to when it came to the goody-two-shoes relative of Sarah’s he flashed a smirk and kept his eyes on the cards. “That’s too bad. I was going to go easy and play without stakes this time. What about you, James?”

“No bets, huh? If I can keep all my hard-earned money then why not?” Was there a hidden meaning behind the older man’s words again? He waited for Thomas to start dealing the cards for two before he pushed his chair back and stood up, slowly like it was all the same to him. And he didn’t even need to try that much, the tug between his fear and the weird temptation was resulting in a similar sort of compromise in his reactions. 

“It’s good that you are pals again, James,” Anna said with that warm sincere smile of hers. Everyone had seen the tension after the incident but no-one except the three of them knew the details. The blond boy smiled back at her. 

“Water under the bridge and all that.” When he sat down opposite Thomas the dark-haired man flashed a small smirk. He would almost be content with just Jimmy’s willingness to keep him company – he was tired of being lonely and the odd one out all the time. They played in an atmosphere almost nearing their old amiable ways. The young footman laughed at losing and complained only for show. Thomas offered him a cigarette and struck a match, making him lean closer to him, close to his hands cupped around the flame. For a moment Jimmy lingered there, realizing it wasn’t only the old bugger who wielded power in this game of theirs. He lifted his eyes and saw him staring back with a longing, teasing glimmer in them. 

If he could get the girls to blush and swoon with only a few words and some well-timed strokes this man who was clearly soft on him couldn’t be much more difficult. Not that he was about to seduce him or anything. Just to even out the intimidating situation of feeling he were the mouse before the cat. 

_I don’t want to fight him, not really,_ he realized there and then, leaning back on his chair, watching the nimble fingers deal cards for the next round. It was fascinating to notice, when he let himself relax and just observe, what kinds of things gave him pleasure. He considered Mr. Barrow pleasing to the eye in many ways now that he thought about it.

 _"We could play for something other than money if this is too tame for you.”_ Thomas said it so low no-one else heard it. Jimmy took his stack and coughed, pretending not to have heard it either. They played in seemingly calm camaraderie, talking only about the game, smoking. But under the surface their drama was unfolding. When he saw he was about to lose again he grunted in frustration like they really had agreed to some unspecified immoral bet. Thomas was placing his winning cards on the table in exaggerated slowness, his eyes fixed on him, that annoying and provocative smirk yanking his lip. When he saw the card that sealed his defeat – the jack of hearts, of all possibilities – he felt himself stiffen in his pants. Almost like he wanted to be conquered. A soft gasp escaped his beautiful lips before he hid it in a more publicly appropriate complaint and tossed his remaining cards across the table.

Thomas noticed it, though. He was keen like that, especially when it came to this blond handsome bloke. His low laughter tickled they boy’s oversensitive nerves.

“One more?”

Jimmy nodded. He couldn’t bloody well get up from his chair now, could he?

Thomas had calculated they shouldn’t be the last ones up and especially should not be seen leaving together, so when Alfred and his aunt bid their goodnights, he yawned and stood up too. Knowing the nosy boy was already asleep would facilitate any possible sneaking in the men’s hallway. He had let Jimmy win the last game just for the balance of things. Shuffling through the deck he held out the cursed knave card from before. 

“Did you know the French call the jack a _valet?_ This could be read as a good sign for the future.”

“If you say so, Mr. Barrow. But you are ahead of me in the line for that position.” He glanced towards Bates who was so deep in whispered conversation with Anna they paid the men no mind. “And that _valet_ just beat me fair and square so I don’t see what good that would mean.” He did, however, know what it might symbolize right at this moment between them and it nearly made him shiver. Being around Thomas had converted him into a poet of sorts. Was this another symptom of him turning into a fairy? Was it really contagious like some said?

“Oh, you never know what might happen. You’re still young.” He let his eyes sweep down Jimmy’s body quickly but with that certain emphasis. _“Remember – if you need anything…”_ He took off with a small sarcastic bow. 

_If he visits me I’ll never ask for anything more, I promise,_ Thomas said in his mind to the universe in general, having long ago lost his faith in any gods.

Behind him Jimmy Kent combed his blond curls with his fingers, loosened his tie, sighed and reached for the newspaper that was left on the table. He could read it for a while to calm himself. Or he could take it with him to casually hide the front of his pants while he walked upstairs. Either or both, but he wasn’t getting up before the lovebirds, that was for sure.

His eyes followed the text, his mind wandering somewhere else.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Yuletide to you all!

In the warm darkness of his room Jimmy tossed about unable to fall asleep. Mr. Barrow’s pending invitation kept repeating in his mind like a worn record forgotten on a gramophone. 

_He is there, expecting me to knock on his door any minute now._

He realized very soon he was also afraid of Thomas getting tired of waiting for him if he dawdled too long – what on earth was that about? Why’d he care if the old pervert waited until passing out? But somehow he did care. He felt he should decide soon and it was tearing his mind in two.

 _If I go there I’d be giving him a permission to… do perverted things. Right? Why am I even considering…?_ Thought he, tip-toeing to his door and taking a peek to see if the corridor was empty. It was. He had heard the last person leave the common bathroom half an hour ago. 

His hands were shaking. The fear and the uncertainty kept his erection halfway soft but he was leaking in his pajama pants like a newlywed before the consummation. 

_I can just chat with him. That’s all. There’s lots of things I’d like to ask. I’ll say ‘hey buddy, let’s just talk, alright’. He won’t attack me, not after the fright with Alfred._

Something eased in him and gave him an excuse to brave out of his room. But lingering in the corridor was the most dangerous part of the escapade so once outside he had to sneak to Thomas’ door fast. Found there his reputation and career would be over, so there was no time for hesitation. He opened and closed it quickly, slipping inside the room, leaning his back on the closed door.

He held his breath, heartbeat drumming in his throat. It wasn’t dark here. It felt like an eternity had passed since they left the servants’ hall, yet Mr. Barrow was still awake and sitting on his bed, a book on his lap.

He looked surprised and flustered seeing the nightly visitor, mouth open in an attempt at deciding whether or not to say ‘hi’. Joy and relief flashed on his face. His black hair was washed clean of pomade and it was falling free on his temples, making him look young. His lips and cheeks were red like he’d been running. Jimmy found himself thinking the man unbearably attractive and that made him shudder.

“Jimmy.” Thomas spoke softly so they wouldn’t be heard. He smiled without any of the maliciousness that usually accompanied it and for a moment it reached the young man until fear took hold again. Jimmy closed his eyes and tried to breathe deep.

“Just… talking, alright?”

“Of course. Whatever you say.” He sounded so sincere Jimmy had to brave opening his eyes. Thomas had put his book away and was leaning on the wall, legs crossed on the bed. “What would you like to talk about?”

_I’d like you to tell me what you’ve done to me to make me act like this, why am I feeling these weird urges, how is it possible I’m less afraid of the police than ...of you?_

Thomas saw the boy was trembling, being torn by some inner forces he was guessing but couldn’t be absolutely certain about. Jimmy drew in breath.

“What you reading?”

“Oh this? Um, it’s a bit… forbidden, I think. It’s not from the Earl’s library.”

“You bought it yerself? What’s it about then? Lewd poetry?” He recovered some of his courage trying to remind himself he could wrap this man around his little finger if he just dared. Some mischievous voice in the back of his mind pointed out to him it wasn’t his _pinkie_ Mr. Barrow was after.

Thomas chuckled. “I wish! It’s a study of human mind and dreams by this Austrian alienist called Sigmund Freud. I find it very interesting.”

“Uh, you mean the nutty one in the papers, who is said to upset the ladies?”

“The same, but the newspapers exaggerate. And he is highly esteemed by rich folks who go for him for help.” His voice hinted at naughty things and Jimmy found himself migrating towards the bed. Thomas shifted giving enough space beside him so it wouldn’t feel too daunting to sit right next to the _known pervert._

Gingerly the fair-haired man sat down on the other end of the bed. “What does he say, then?”

“Well… he says that we’re all born bisexual. Everyone. That means we all like both sexes in some measure in the beginning. But because the rules only ever allow one type to exist and parents do what they do, most people manage to grow out of it. Or hide it.” There was a tint of bitterness in his voice when mentioning parents but he softened it with a grin. After all pity wasn’t the feeling he wanted to arouse in the boy tonight.

“That’s… mad.” _But if the famous doctor says so then it must be true. That it’s… not unusual._ Untrodden avenues of thought were opening up in his mind.

“Is it?” Thomas asked completely rhetorically, raising an eyebrow, letting his gaze travel downwards to Jimmy’s crotch that was showing his reaction to their nearness through the thin pajama pants. Mercifully his eyes lingered there only a short moment, not trusting his luck just yet. “Nature doesn’t always follow human laws, is what I think.”

“So you couldn’t… be with a gal even if you tried?” He realized that it might be just a wee bit too personal a question, but Mr. Barrow shrugged and didn’t look bothered.

“I tried a few times when I was young. I mean, I didn’t need to go chase girls, they always seemed to find me.” 

_Oh, I bet they just flocked around you, you handsome devil._

“But it didn’t feel… right. Didn’t feel like anything at all. So I avoided them.”

“I just love the girls, me. Always have.” He grinned like a little boy thinking of candied apples. “They’re so soft and plump and giggly.”

“Oh, there’s no doubt about that, Jimmy. But most girls won’t let you do the things you’d like with them… before you are safely locked in matrimony.”

“Ain’t that the sad truth.” He sighed, more relaxed now when talking about a familiar and pleasant subject. “I mean, there are some ladies who do if you pay them… but it’s not the same. I’ve never paid anyone, mind! I saw some in London and they looked so… unhappy.”

“Yes, it feels _fantastic_ when someone touches you willingly.” Jimmy heard him sigh and dared a glance at Thomas. He was leaning on the wall, eyes closed, lips parted like in a dream. _Is he thinking of some bloke who has touched him? Or ...is he thinking about me?_ The thought sent an unmistakable jolt of arousal through him. He kept watching as the other man’s chest rose and fell, his red lips moved just slightly, like forming soundless whispers to someone. 

Jimmy found his hand moving almost as if it had a will of its own, rising from the mattress and hovering towards the other man. He quickly withdrew it, breathless and shocked at his own weird reactions. But the curiosity was ever stronger now. _If I put my hand on his thigh what would happen?_

Imagining how Thomas would start and gasp and look at him eyes drowned in pleasure made the knot in Jimmy’s stomach tighten, nearing painful again. It had never felt like this with any girl, ever. Not even close. 

The silent tension was cut off by Thomas’ soft whisper.

_“Would you like to know what it feels like?”_


	5. Chapter 5

Jimmy was trembling. _This is it._ Now he just had to get up, be firm and walk away from the room.

“Calm down. This is ‘just talking’, ain’t it?” Thomas had noticed how in a twist the younger man had got his proverbial knickers and he had to back off and lie like a professional. _Alright, still too early. A shame. That hard-on is so delicious I’d be satisfied with just giving him some._

“Right. Yes.” Jimmy had to clear his throat for the fright – and something else – had made him lose his voice. _Why am I such a mouse all of a sudden? I was just thinking of doing the same thing to him like a minute ago. Almost._

“I’ve had some – I mean, some girls – they like kissing me a lot.” He was nearly stuttering and it annoyed the hell out of him.

“I’m sure they do.” There was a pause, a space to add a remark after that. Mr. Barrow was looking at his hands on his lap, smiling to himself ever so slightly.

“What? They do!”

Thomas turned to look at him, his gaze hopping between Jimmy’s lips and eyes. “I said I believe you. No doubt about that. But do they do anything more, ever?”

“Oh, _bugger off._ Of course not,” Jimmy sighed and realized too late he should have chosen some other curse word instead. This whole day had been one big blunder. He was grateful the other didn’t make fun of that. They sat in silence for a while and it turned out to be the most dangerous environment for queer ideas springing up. Even talking about forbidden things wasn’t as bad as what just being there beside Thomas made his mind conjure up.

He made a decision he was sure he’d regret in so many different ways later, but he did it anyway. He needed to stop being the passive party one way or another.

Trembling, he lifted his hand and slowly placed it on Thomas’ knee. That was as far as he could go at the moment and it made him dizzy with fear and this weird sort of exhilarating feeling he hadn’t the courage to name yet. He felt the other jolt and stare at him.

“Stop,” he said, when Thomas was about to move. “Just… stay put, alright?”

The other nodded, lips parted in trying to conceal how fast his heart was beating and how it was making him breathless, a condition not that much unlike Jimmy’s who was trying to get his rampaging mind in some sort of order. Feeling the warmth of another human body through the linen he reminded himself he had the upper hand in this. The law was on his side if he so chose to play it, the man beside him was obviously head over heels soft on him. Many girls had been like that, so maybe he could think of Thomas as one of the girls.

Except he couldn’t. The dark Mr. Barrow had an air about him no woman could possess, at least none of whom Jimmy had ever met. He looked and sounded like he had lots of experience in fields Jimmy only imagined vaguely. He was so far from girly the naughty postcard stereotypes of gay men felt ridiculous compared to this handsome, cunning man. 

Thomas would _know._ He would know how to ...handle him, wouldn’t he? And unlike girls he wasn’t bashful about it.

He moved his hand an inch up the thigh and stopped, feeling the overwhelming burn in himself again. Thomas bit his lip too late for the short surprised moan was heard by both of them and its meaning was clear. Jimmy was so startled by his own reaction he withdrew his hand quickly. His cock was fully erect and answered to that little sound with an eager throb.

Both of them were breathing fast and deep, hearts pounding in their throats. Thomas was no virgin but this situation felt like doing everything for the first time.

Jimmy was sitting legs crossed and had his hands on his lap, trying to hide his mortifying condition but also trying to look like he wasn’t. Thomas battled in his mind whether or not to dare make a move. It was like walking on a minefield. Eventually he found the courage, a victory of want over fear.

”You can’t leave in that state, Jimmy.” It was fortunate the boy sat on his good hand’s side. He schooled his voice to sound more reasonable than seductive. ”Let me? Just the hand, I promise.”

”I–” He couldn’t say yes, he didn’t want to say no. The air between them felt like it would combust if someone struck a match. Thomas braced himself for rejection and ugly name calling and slipped his hand on James’ upper thigh, mere inches away from the target. The boy breathed in sharply but stayed quiet, staring at the hand, mesmerized. 

When it reached his member through the cloth a shiver went through both of them. Facing no resistance Thomas continued sliding over the length of it and to his utter delight it answered to his touch. He had been right. 

He looked for Jimmy’s eyes but the boy kept his face turned downwards, so instead he warned him with a short _sshh._

Then he squeezed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slowwwly getting there… Welcome to the new 20s, a century apart from the events of this fic. Happy New Year everyone!


	6. Chapter 6

As Thomas had suspected the young man was so full of pent up need that another human’s touch was sheer bliss. His hand squeezing around Jimmy’s clothed cock made the boy gasp aloud. Oh, it would be a _paradise_ for Thomas if he could touch him back but they weren’t there yet and probably wouldn’t be tonight. He tried to plan ahead, tried to quell his yearning for the blond charmer for the sake of possible long term happiness. If he pounced him now or did anything else as rash he’d probably ruin everything and scare him away.

He moved his hand over the wonderful, living, hot erection and squeezed again, now near the root. Jimmy leaned the back of his head on the wall and closed his eyes, sighing, fists clenching the sheets. The only other time anyone had touched him like this was when his former employer, Lady Anstruther, had had her way with him more than a year ago. She too had known what was what and it had been so good but eventually he didn’t like to be under someone’s heel like that. Following her to France would have made him her official toy-boy and that wouldn’t do at all. Jimmy wanted to be free.

He was startled out of his reverie when he felt Thomas’ hand sneak under his pyjama pants. His first reaction was to shove the man off but before he could do that the skin contact around his girth made him delirious with pleasure. How was it even possible that it felt so good? He was starting to think the teachings against this kind of behaviour were just another ploy to make the little people not enjoy life. Thomas watched intensely the flickering expressions on Jimmy’s face, how he tried not to utter a sound but his red cheeks and parted lips were sending a clear enough message. When Thomas pressed his thumb on the glans and slid it around on the slippery pre-cum the boy twitched and nearly moaned, slamming his palm on his mouth to silence himself. 

_God, he sure knows his way around a prick. But of course he does._ He closed his eyes again but kept the hand muffling his mouth.

 _“Yeah… try not to…”_ Thomas whispered with a grin, not really trying to say anything meaningful but selfishly wanting to anchor the young man to him and to his voice, so he wouldn’t drift off to any fantasy about a _girl_ doing this to him instead. He started to move his fist along the shaft in the confines of Jimmy’s pyjama pants, feeling the foreskin slide and reveal the head, relishing in the hardness of the member – he’d handled half-hard cocks on men of his inclination and this one here beat some of them easily with the eagerness and readiness for action. He felt Jimmy tremble and he halted, wanting to prolong the pleasure, wanting to savour this incredible moment of being allowed to touch him. His own erection wept and ached but he would take care of that later. 

A small disappointed huff made him look up and the vision in front of his eyes was nothing short of heavenly. Blond curls messily falling on his face or brushed behind his ear, cheeks bright red, eyes dark with lust Jimmy was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. And the need had liberated him to protest Thomas’ way of touching him – not the touching as such anymore, but because he had _stopped it._ That was a big leap forward. Thomas flashed a flirtatious grin.

 _“Getting there, don’t fret,”_ he whispered with the same teasing tone he wanted the boy to remember tomorrow when he probably will have some doubts and regrets about this night. He didn’t just want to get him off – he wanted him to come for more later, he wanted to be so good he couldn’t be brushed off as a fleeting mistake. Slowly he commenced the movement again, squeezing a bit tighter, flicking his thumb over the head on every passing, feeling him getting nearer. Their breathing was synchronized now, rising and falling in the rhythm of the older man’s hand. A sheen of sweat glimmered on their temples.

 _“Shit – fuck – that’s–”_ Jimmy hiccuped between gasps trying to keep quiet and the pleading in his voice nearly made Thomas come in his pants. Lord, if he ever heard _his name_ said in such need… He made a mental note of trying to achieve just that one day.

 _“Alright, Jimmy,”_ he cooed and sped up, knowing just the right pace to make him finish. _“Hand on your mouth now.”_ The boy obeyed, watching him for a moment until his eyelids closed half involuntarily with the approaching climax. Thomas felt it, a sort of tremble against his palm but somehow also on some spiritual level, with senses heightened by their mutual burning desire. Jimmy froze and shuddered, pressing his hand on his mouth even tighter, breathing rapidly through his nose.

 _“God, yes, yes,”_ Thomas whispered, trembling himself too as the young man whimpered against his palm and shot his seed inside his pants with the force of many months’ celibacy. Thomas tried to gather as much of the fluids in his hand as he could without breaking the last few gentle strokes that carried the orgasm to conclusion. He was so close himself a mere poke would send him flying. He fumbled about in his nightstand drawer and found a handkerchief. Jimmy was still breathing heavily and permitted – or didn’t realize what was happening – Thomas to pull the front of his pants down and clean as much as he could, gently, efficiently, fast. He got a glimpse of what he had been holding and he liked what he saw.

Such a beautiful boy in every aspect.

“Fuck, that was…”

“Mmm.” Thomas was leaning on the wall trying not to look too needy but _damn_ if he could ask just one thing right now the choice would be easy. Jimmy looked at him, then down at his bulging crotch that the older man didn’t even try to hide, then back at the grey eyes. He furrowed his brows in realization of what he had just let happen between them.

“I -”

“It’s alright, Jimmy. Go on, get some sleep.”

His voice was a crow’s croak. His sacrifice was clear to both of them and the young man, through his rising panic, recognized a sort of debt he owed to the dark haired seducer. It was a cunning move in the game, letting him off the hook for now and not demanding reciprocity – yet. He’d come round to it when he was good and ready, with a little help from Mr. Barrow’s progressive flirting. Jimmy rose to his feet and scampered to the door, feeling awkward in the conflict between the blissful bodily relaxation and the racing of his mind. He turned to look at Thomas, still sitting on the bed, nodding to him. Not knowing what to say he nodded back like in a formal greeting and put his hand on the door knob where he froze. _He_ couldn’t be the one to push his head through this door to check the corridor.

“Oh, yeah. Hang on.” The older man got to the door beside him and opened it, peeking through and then gesturing that the way was indeed clear. Jimmy tried not to look, not to think, and silently dashed out to the safety of his own room.

Forehead pressed against the door, a grin was spreading on Thomas’ face. God, Jimmy had been just lovely under his touch. It had really happened. How wonderful it was to hold someone, how marvelous after all these years of endless thirst in loneliness. His hand slid under the waistband and took a grip around his aching erection that hadn’t abated in the slightest, pulling it out from his pants. He knew from experience no-one ever came to his room, and if they did, there was sure to be a series of loud knocks expecting him to answer first, so he had no hesitations behaving however he pleased in his room.

He stepped back to the cot and sat on the edge. His heartbeat was still elevated, his breathing erratic when he started to jerk off, slowly at first, pulling the protective glove off his wounded hand with his teeth. He reached for another piece of cloth he would wash later – it wouldn’t do to leave any marks on the sheets that were collected by a footman and hand-washed by the maids. He still heard in his ears the little noises the blond had made. God, the stubborn, proud and vain Jimmy Kent shivering and moaning in his hands. Totally under his power, willingly, even pleading for him to continue. Lips parted, eyes closed Thomas spilled on his fingers, hips jerking, pleasure spreading through his body and mind as he whispered his name. 

_“Oh God, Jimmy, Jimmy…”_

He would have to prepare mentally for a possible turnabout and remorse from Jimmy’s part tomorrow, but he decided not to think about it tonight. Tonight he would sleep well.


	7. Chapter 7

The next few days the two behaved like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Thomas was infatuated up to his ears but he hid it behind his cool mask. Having had that first connection with Jimmy made him self-confident and the intermission, as he called it in the hidden parts of his poetic mind, gave him time to observe the young man more. To his utter delight the other didn’t show signs of regret – on the contrary, almost.

Jimmy felt weirdly lightheaded and content, his persistent need to flirt with the girls having lessened. So much so that Carson commented that he “finally behaved like a grown-up” when he did his daily chores in a trance, ignoring most people. He didn’t realize it was a direct consequence of having had someone touch him, someone who wanted it and adored him. His experiences with less than eager girls had always left him disappointed and frustrated, and he tried not to remember lady Anstruther at all. He didn’t feel the need for attention as severely as he usually did which was apparently an extension of his sex drive.

Was this something he should be worried about? That stunning ponce handles him once and that makes him calm as a satisfied cow? He knew Thomas would do everything in his power to hide the event from the household so he felt secure and at ease even if the thought of someone, some other guy knowing about it made him shudder in fear.

He caught Mr. Barrow watching him from time to time, nodding politely and only a couple of times flashing a short secret smile. That was it? The man didn’t want more? Well, that was a relief, really, wasn’t it?

On the third day after their ...encounter Jimmy realized he had started to thirst for more. The maids made eyes at him like they always did when he marched to the kitchen to collect the full trays and he gave them his trademark charmer’s smile, enjoying the blush that crept on their pretty faces and their giggling. _Still got the touch._ But now he was too well aware of the distance between a desire and the possibility of it becoming reality. Nothing would ever happen between him and the girls here, or any girl for that matter, save for the ones in London streets. 

He wanted to touch their round breasts and press himself against them but alas, the strict rules of Downton – and the whole world, it seemed – made sure he never would. Maybe in the smart society of actors, singers and such free folk in bigger cities one could do as one wished, but he wasn’t getting amidst those anytime soon.

Thus, his mind focused on the one possible relief and partner who was available, even though that wasn’t how he phrased the turn in his head. And that was what Thomas had been waiting for, patiently if at times filled with doubt. When the blond boy came to suggest a game of cards that night in the staff hall Mr. Barrow had to hide his victorious, happy grin in a cough.

“Sure, Jimmy. You can deal.” He lit a cigarette and puffed a few rings to distract himself from the tension that started to form in the low of his gut. The card game didn’t matter at all to either of them and both played sloppily, once Jimmy even made a real losing mistake but Thomas ignored it so they wouldn’t have to end too soon. 

His knee accidentally bumped into Jimmy’s thigh under the table. The young man didn’t move away but kept pretending to play, asking for a smoke.

“Go buy your own, you loafer,” Thomas chuckled but nevertheless handed the pack to the other. He also offered the light and Jimmy leaned closer to him than was really necessary to get the cigarette lit. The small area where their limbs touched in secret felt like it was on fire.

“I will, next week. I’ll pay you back then,” he held the normal conversation but glanced at the older man under his lashes. Oh yes, the old pervert wanted more. Mr. Barrow had been playing coy during these days? That was new.

Encouraged by the obvious message in the boy’s eyes Thomas nudged his knee against him, feigning it was unintentional. Jimmy’s lips parted in soundless inhalation, his shoulders tensed and his eyelids closed. It was only for a second but the other saw it, filling him with predatory joy.

“Good, see that you do.” He let Jimmy win and leaned back in his chair, faking a yawn, glancing at the clock on the wall. He snuffed his cig and got up.

“You getting tired, old man?” the blond teased and dealt the cards anew. The touch leaving the side of his thigh made him feel a small sensation of loss.

“No, but I have to save my energy for more important things than this. Thanks for the game.” He sounded curt but his gaze lingered on James’ lips, then rose to his eyes meaningfully. Their dance of clandestine communication in the midst of other people wasn’t too daring, no-one paid them much mind as they looked perfectly ordinary chatting there.

“Indeed, there’s the flower show tomorrow and her ladyship wants her hair done in a special way. I better retire too,” Anna said, rising from her seat, making her admirer follow suit. Thomas nodded to them and walked up the stairs, heated anticipation tingling in his limbs. Would the boy touch him this time? Would he dare? He might still find it repulsive despite his obvious lust and the enjoyment he felt last time. People were complicated like that.

Jimmy smoked the borrowed cigarette until it burned his fingers. He collected the cards and only then realized Mr. Barrow had left them there. He didn’t even have to come up with an excuse or feel it was solely his need that made him approach Thomas’ room later. _That sly bastard,_ he smiled to himself, pocketed the pack and went up to his room.

Nearly an hour later, when everyone in the men’s corridor heard Mr. Carson bid goodnight to the last one in, Jimmy waited a few moments more, ear pressed against his door. It occurred to him that what he was doing was not only mischievous but also criminal. How nutty was that, if some posh learned folk were saying it was just human nature, really? His new reasoning and his upbringing had a short debate but his craving won like it had last time. Sneaking fast to Mr. Barrow’s door he sealed the fact that this was now more than just one slip from the normal.

 _“Jimmy.”_ His voice was a purr, sounding sincerely gladdened by his arrival but also very calculated in its seductive tone. Thomas had the book in his hands again.

“You left these behind.”

“Thank you for the trouble.” There was sarcasm in that one. Jimmy took the three steps needed to reach the cot, tossed the cards to the side table and sat down. He was filled with bravery now that he had decided this was a good exchange in the absence of more conventional affairs for him. Yeah, that’s right, he was in charge and this was only a convenient arrangement ...albeit one that could lead to incarceration. That aside, in this moment he was the boss.

Why were his hands shaking, then? 

Thomas stayed put, waiting for the boy to make a move. It still had to come from him even though it would be wonderful to have the freedom to just jump and claim his Narcissus’ lips.

“I’m curious,” Jimmy started.

“Of what, then?” They weren’t looking at each other. The atmosphere had changed to tingly and nervous. _How could you let me leave last time and still get any sleep?_ He didn’t dare to say it out loud, after all, and tried to come up with something else to ask.

“How do you meet other men… like you? I figured you can’t really go and leave a personal in the local paper.”

“Well. It _is_ complicated. You need to sort of… read the signs when you see someone you like. It’s easier in the cities, there are clubs that… men like me frequent.”

“So you’ve been with many blokes, then?” He was genuinely interested now, anything to do with the high life and secret trysts, even between pansies, was fresh air to the small town circles he was condemned to live in. Thomas chuckled.

“Not that many. A few. You might find it amusing that one of them was a… lord.”

“No way.”

“Yeah. A right bastard too but damn good in the sack,” the dark man slipped into his reveries, forgetting to guard his tongue. I shouldn’t trust him with my secrets too fast, he scolded himself. He heard Jimmy draw in breath and he glanced to his side. The boy was blushing again and dang it, what a wondrous sight it was.

“Uh, I shouldn’t have –“

“I’m not a little girl, Mr. Barrow. Naughty words don’t frighten me.”

“Of course not,” he corrected his attitude quickly.

“What does that... mean, exactly?” Jimmy picked invisible dust specks off his pants nervously.

“What does?”

“If he were a louse, how could he still… how could you –”

“Oh. Um. He was extremely attractive, and funny. He said he would employ me and take me away from this place but after the summer he… didn’t keep the promise.”

“Oh.” To think that two men were actually having romances and feelings like any ordinary couple was somehow eye-opening to Jimmy. He pondered on that for a moment, brow furrowed. The answer wasn’t really what he had wanted to hear but again he found he couldn’t utter any more specific words. But perceptive as he was Thomas noticed his hesitation.

“You… wanted to know something else? I can’t tell you his name, obviously.” They still avoided looking at each other like a nervous young couple meeting for the first time.

“No, of course not.”

Thomas guessed what the boy was after and dared to continue. “You want to know what I _did_ with him? I’m not sure you can handle that, big boy or not.” He knew adding a provocation and a tease would poke the youth into the desired direction. Jimmy snapped his head up, defiant.

“I am not a kid, Mr. Barrow.”

“Right you are.” He shifted a bit closer and lowered his voice to a velvety whisper. _“I don’t usually like to be the bottom, but I made an exception with him. He could finger me for so long and so thoroughly that eventually I was begging for him to take me. And he would do it slowly, facing me, so we could kiss while he entered –”_ A breathless whimper interrupted him. Jimmy didn’t even understand some of the words Thomas used but somehow he got the right image regardless.

“What – you mean he –”

“Oh come on, Mr. Kent. You must have heard all the rumors about us. That bit is true and I’m not even going to pussyfoot about it.”

“But, but – isn’t that – uhh –”

“Does it hurt? Is it disgusting? No. If it’s done properly it’s _bloody_ _fantastic.”_

The frown under the blond curls was deepening as the young man digested this alarming and frankly very exciting information. What he had already experienced in the hands of this worldly fairy did speak for the forbidden things being enjoyable rather than whatever the church men and coppers had you believe. In his mind’s eye he saw the handsome dark haired man moaning and pleading, hair tousled on his sweaty forehead, red lips open while some _fancy prince_ shoved his – 

He had to stop the vision there, for he was so hard in his pyjama pants it was nearly intolerable. To his horror he realized he had pressed his palm on his erection and Mr. Barrow was _right there beside him._

“Mmm.” Thomas was pleased like a cat having cornered a vole. His arrows of lewd imagery had hit the bullseye. He still kept himself all courteous and cool, his hands on his own lap, partially hiding the fact he was as stiff as Jimmy. “Don’t worry, I said I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. But –”

He waited for a reaction. “But what?” Jimmy breathed, having shifted his indecent hand aside.

“Well. _You’ve_ come back here, haven’t ya?”

Thomas saw the young man was ripe for the taking and placed his hand where Jimmy’s had been a moment ago, making him jolt and groan. The shapely, eager cock responded to his touch like a happy pet and he didn’t know when he had enjoyed himself this much. Closer to the boy’s ear he whispered:

_“Last time, after you left, I touched myself and imagined it was your hand.”_

Jimmy froze, biting his lip, trying to keep quiet. The dissonance of the two stimuli was tearing his mind. Knowing how much this man wanted him should have made him shudder in disgust but somehow there was not a trace of anything like that. His trembling was of a totally opposite nature. He knew what Thomas was asking, and he himself thought it only fair, and he _was_ curious to see his effect on the other man. But he was also terrified to step over the threshold, his previous resolution having weakened again.

If he made any move, if he were an active player – he wouldn’t get out of possible accusations claiming to be a victim, not anymore. Vaguely he registered a growing opposition to the idea of revealing – betraying – Mr. Barrow to anyone, especially to any officers of the law.

“I – I don’t…”

“You know how to do it,” Thomas told him matter-of-factly. He squeezed to emphasize his point, making Jimmy gasp.

“Fuck –”

“Mmm.” Without warning Thomas slipped his hand under the waistband of Jimmy’s pyjama pants, sliding over the erection to the root and claiming it in his grip. The skin contact felt heavenly and sent electric ripples through the boy.

“Alright, yeah,” Jimmy mumbled, dizzy with desire, the heat pooling in his gut and making him brave like a drunkard. Pinching his eyes closed he fumbled his way to the other’s crotch, aided by Mr. Barrow’s hips shifting closer. When he felt it under his palm, thick and firm, he swallowed. There was a damp spot on the cloth hiding it. Tentatively he gave it a squeeze and the small sound from Thomas’ throat went straight into his loins. Dear Lord, how tempting, how gratifying it was to know you gave someone pleasure! None of the gals he’d tried to have a tumble with had seemed to like his touches much and he always felt he had to bargain and plead and in the end it was just exhausting and frustrating to have one chaste kiss after all that work. But Thomas let him see and hear how utterly he enjoyed every little drop of attention from him. It was thoroughly exhilarating.

He gave it another shy grope and the older man pressed his head on the wall and _hissed._ Jimmy wasn’t going to last a minute. Thomas took the reins and pulled the other’s cock out of the pants, moving his grip down along the length. Jimmy groaned and followed his example, the weirdness of touching another man drowned in the heat. His hand knew instinctively what to do but it wasn’t like wanking. This was slower yet ten times more stimulating and needed no mental images of cinema starlets in their underthings. His mind was empty and all he could do was feel Mr. Barrow’s experienced touch, the buzzing in his ears, the blood rushing in his veins, the overwhelming pleasure of the build-up towards the impending orgasm.

 _“Jimmy, Jimmy, oh fuck that feels good,”_ Thomas whispered hoarsely, his hips buckling up to meet the boy’s speeding hand and Jimmy had to bite his free fist not to yell, spilling over, jerking and gasping as bliss and relief coursed through him. Beside him Thomas doubled over, red lips open in silent moan and the boy felt how his organ throbbed in his fist and then the warm seed trickled over his fingers. It was curious, and he didn’t pull his hand away, having just smeared Mr. Barrow’s in the similar manner. Thomas’ expert thumb slid over the slippery swollen head of his cock goading out the last pleasurable shudders before it went too sensitive.

They sat there in silence until their heartbeats calmed down.

“I’m in a pickle and no mistake,” Jimmy sighed in an all too revealing way before starting to get up, awkward and uncertain how to manage that, his prick out and all.

“Wait,” Thomas said gently, reaching to pick a washcloth from the nightstand. He cleaned Jimmy and his own hand first, so he could then wipe the young man’s hand dry. Last he cleaned himself, occupying himself so as not to follow his most pressing impulse of kissing the blondie breathless. Intimacy like that had to be saved for a later date yet.

He was afraid to say anything for fear of breaking this fragile connection. When he raised his eyes Jimmy was at the door, hand on the doorknob, watching him with calm contemplation.

“Good night... Thomas.”

 _Yes._ “Good night, Jimmy.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No sexy times in this chapter but many things get sorted.

Downton was in full bustle. The yearly cricket match between the Abbey and the village was happening today and the preparations had been going on for a few days now. The chosen players were enthusiastically talking about last year’s game and who had been the best all-rounder.

Thomas Barrow didn’t really think about the match. He was a good player and had been chosen for the house team like every year. What he was thinking about, planning, weighing was how soon he would dare to suggest a new rendezvous to Jimmy. And more than that - his mind seemed to automatically roam the possibilities to go further with him. The week had been busy and all staff had extra work so they had barely seen each other in passing. Jimmy kept blushing if he stared him for too long which spurred Thomas enough to endure the drudgery.

Deep in thought he stepped out of the kitchen after having polished the silverware.

“Thomas. I would have a word with you, if you have time.”

Mr. Carson’s rumbling voice called from behind him in the hallway and some little nuance in it made him go cold. He composed his face into its usual haughty look and turned around. Carson looked very grim when he dived back to his office expecting Thomas to follow. He did, bracing himself for something unpleasant. He closed the door behind him, for this felt like a private matter.

“Yes, indeed, better close the door,” Carson said, seemingly uncomfortable. Thomas waited, standing in attention. The butler continued after a moment’s awkward silence.

“It has been brought to my attention that you have… that is, you are suspected of having made a pass at a fellow staff member.” He coughed before continuing very quietly, “Another man, that is.”

A freezing fear gripped Thomas’ gut for a moment, his mind calculating every possibility. _Would Jimmy have spoken? Had someone seen him come from my room?_ No, it must be Alfred, even though he had seemed fine the last time the subject was touched upon.

“Mr. Carson, sir. I have no doubt you are aware of what I am. Even though I have made no show of it, for obvious reasons, I haven’t feigned otherwise either.” This was true, half the household knew of his inclination, so he might as well say it out loud. Carson nodded, nearly squirming in his shoes. “Don’t you think it would be very stupid of me to risk my whole life like that?”

“That is not an answer, Thomas.”

“How can I answer when I don’t even know what I have allegedly done and to whom? I can swear on the Holy Book I haven’t molested anyone, but does that stop people from slandering if they don’t like me?” He wasn’t technically lying when phrasing the matter this way and it gave his words weight.

“Krhm. Fine, I suppose you have the right to know. It was young Alfred Nugent who approached me about this. I trust you to be civil towards him nonetheless. Something to do with… kissing. He was very vague about the whole thing, now that I think about it. But you understand I am obligated to take this to his lordship for it is a criminal offence if -”

Thomas clenched his teeth. He had to give something to anchor his defence but it meant saying the name of the so-called victim, and he hated that. “I will repeat myself, Mr. Carson. I have done nothing. Alfred isn’t the brightest of them all, if you’ll excuse my frankness; I can guess which incident this concerns. He saw me and James horsing around and seemed to interpret the fisticuffs in the wrong way.”

“Mr. Kent, you say?” Carson’s face brightened a little before frowning again. Apparently he had changed his view of the young _whippersnapper._ “I have to ask his testimony, of course.”

“You do what you need to, Mr. Carson,” Thomas said coldly looking past the older gentleman’s shoulder, letting his long-time bitterness, which had been on a holiday lately, handle the credibility of his act. Jimmy would know how to sound indignant and flippant naturally, he’d be fine under Carson’s questioning.

“Hmh. Very well. You may leave, Thomas.” The butler dismissed him, not completely unkindly.

“Am I to assume I’m still allowed to play in the cricket match, Mr. Carson?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he waved his hand impatiently, wanting to end the uncomfortable issue.

 _At least I’m still useful even if under the threat of sacking,_ Thomas thought, aggrieved, closing the door behind him. Yet he shrugged his own problems aside and thought of someone else instead. _This must be handled so that Jimmy doesn’t get into any trouble._ He headed for the kitchen. Alfred needed to be taken care of. Thomas peeked through the doorway and found who he was looking for. When Mrs. Patmore went fussing to the pantry, he caught the girl’s attention.

 _“Psst. Ivy.”_ He nudged his head conspiratorially and slid to the staff dining hall that was empty at this time of day. After a hesitant moment Ivy appeared at the door.

“What is it?” She looked perplexed. She was one of those who were strictly kept from knowing about the indecent nature of Thomas Barrow, the town pervert. There might even have been a blush on her cheeks, he wasn’t sure and surely did not care, except how it might help in his scheme.

“I was thinking, Ivy. Are you not aware you have an ardent admirer?” He held her eyes until she smiled shyly and chuckled, lowering her eyes. _So easy,_ he thought smugly.

“What is this, Mr. Barrow? I have work to do and Mrs. Patmore will soon yell at me for loitering.”

“I’m just a messenger. It’s Alfred who’s been talking about you endlessly, and I thought I’d help the lad out, seeing how shy and _respectful_ he is.” He added a flavour of his more usual sneer not to sound too out of character. “He thinks it untoward to ask you out just like that, but that’s what is on his mind all the time.”

“Oh. Well, he is a nice boy, I think. But shouldn’t a man be brave enough to talk to the girl himself?” Thomas saw there was a chance, if not for romance then at least for one date, seeing how boring the life of a kitchen maid could be without escorts.

“I think it’s gentlemanly, really. That, and he’s so head over heels for you it has made him think and worry too much. It’s the 20th century now, Ivy. Women can be forward too. Won’t you put him out of his misery and propose a trip to the pictures or something? It needn’t be a direct question, you can just kind of… talk dreamily about a new movie when he’s near.”

“I see. You are a clever one, like they say. I’ll think about it, but I’m not promising anything, mind!” Her face was bright with the pleasure of knowing someone was courting her even if in secret.

“He didn’t ask me to talk to you, I’ve just had my eye on this business long enough and got tired of his endless sighing. Please don’t tell him that you know about his feelings! He would be embarrassed.”

“Of course not, I’m not daft.” With that, she danced back to the kitchen, a spring in her step. Thomas wondered if doing good deeds could be his new modus operandi. 

_That’s Alfred handled from my side, just have to make sure he knows I did this._ _And then pray his lordship needs me for the cricket match more than he cares about rumours._

He hurried outside to help with the placing of tables and white canvas canopies.

  
  
  


****

  
  
  


Robert Crawley, the 7th Earl of Grantham, had a feeling a headache might be on its way if this matter dragged on for any longer. He had received the tall, redheaded footman in his library so he wouldn’t have to leave his desk for there was much to write and sign before changing into his cricket wear. The boy was about to cause a scandal.

”I’m not asking you to abandon your beliefs, Alfred. Just to introduce a little kindness into the equation.”

”Am I to not stand up against evil?” the boy asked, obviously uncomfortable, fearing he was overstepping by talking back to his lordship.

”Evil? Are you without sin, Alfred? For I am certainly not. Thomas does not choose to be the way he is, and what I heard from James it was merely horseplay. He can have just friends too, you know.”

Alfred looked thoughtful and hesitant. Robert stood up from his desk arranging the letters in a neat pile.

“I really need to go change for the cricket match, and so do you. I implore you, at least keep this matter between us until this event is over.”

“Yes, my lord,” he decided and nodded a bow.

In his rooms Robert told the story to his trusted valet and chuckled.

”I mean, if I’d shouted blue murder every time someone tried to kiss me at Eton, I’d have gone hoarse in a month.”

 _His lordship must have been a very pretty boy,_ Bates smiled, handing Robert his sports cap.

  
  
  


****

  
  
  


The day was beautiful, sunny and warm. In the half time of the match, when everyone was enjoying refreshments under the shade of the canopies, Thomas sidled up to Alfred. The boy was fidgety and unsmiling, even after they’d played successfully in the same team. _What an arse._ Thomas’ eyes caught beautiful Jimmy serving drinks further away, and Ivy behind the pastry table. He winked at her and she nodded, smiling. _The game is on._

“You know, Mr. Nugent, there’s this pretty lass you should finally go and talk to.”

“What you on about, Mr. Barrow?” _Still wary._

“I’m talking about Ivy, you lughead. For once you are clothed in something else than your work dress, you look handsome and the day is nice.”

Alfred turned to stare at him, confused. “Go on. I took the liberty of hinting at her that you were interested, because the two of you just seem to dance around each other but never act. No need to thank me, off you pop.” He smiled to himself and felt the air change, _felt_ the ‘thank you’ that wasn’t uttered but very clearly there. The boy left towards the table and just then Jimmy happened to look their way. Thomas nodded meaningfully and saw Jimmy shift his gaze to where the hopefully new and long-lasting couple met. He raised an eyebrow at Thomas, who just shrugged, amused.

After the match and the victory of the house team Lord Grantham gathered Carson, Jimmy, Thomas and Alfred to have a chat. Alfred, cheeks pink with delight, opened the conversation before Robert could. Carson glared at him but the lad didn’t even notice.

“Your lordship, I’m going to take your advice and leave the matter be. Let’s not even mention it anymore. I apologize, I was wrong to make a mountain out of a molehill.”

Robert was visibly relieved, and secretly so were Jimmy and Thomas, side by side - not too close though. “Well, that’s very good to hear, Alfred, thank you. A wise and grown-up decision, if I may say so.” He glanced at Carson and continued, “We’ve come to a conclusion about the staff arrangements. With Carson’s approval Thomas, that is, Mr. Barrow will be the new under-butler, and James will be appointed as the first footman.”

The surprise and joy on their faces was so obvious Robert felt he had done the good deed of the day, possibly the whole month. Carson nodded and harrumphed in agreement. 

“They have both proven to be competent workers.”

 _“Congratulations. I guess I’ll have to keep calling you Mr. Barrow, then,”_ Jimmy muttered after the group had dispersed.

_“Just sometimes, Mr. Kent.”_


	9. Chapter 9

The day had been long but Jimmy wasn’t feeling tired. He’d played well in the cricket match – not as brilliantly as the talented Mr. Barrow, of course, but well enough – and he felt it in his muscles as a pleasant hum of a day well spent. Even having to change and serve drinks afterwards hadn’t worn him out. It wasn’t the physical exercise that had him on pins and needles. This new sensation that he daren’t name was filling him with energy, like low electricity sizzling through his nerves and muscles.

Despite this he made a show in front of his fellow servants of yawning and retiring to bed early once they were free to return to the Abbey. He heard Mrs. Patmore laugh at ‘the young ones these days being too soft’ but he ignored it, his mind occupied with something more pressing.

The new title of under-butler suited Thomas well. It was like the man had gained half an inch of height at being promoted. Jimmy was baffled how a mere change in the word you were called with made all the difference. He himself felt somehow important too, more powerful even, although that was ridiculous if he really thought about it. First footman was only the first small step upwards in a grand household like this. Thomas, on the other hand, was now the second in command after the almighty Mr. Carson and that was truly something.

_Now he tops me in all the possible ways,_ he complained inwardly, slouching up the stairs towards the servants’ quarters. _He’s older, more experienced and now even my superior, God damn it._

But was he really competing with Thomas on any field? Or did this bother him because he hated feeling inferior, less knowledgeable in their… private moments? He cut the train of thought and shut himself in his room that fortunately was still completely his, the other bed still vacant. Hopefully the situation remained so, otherwise it would be impossible to… Jimmy busied his mind with checking his hair in the tiny oval-shaped mirror that was hanging on the inside of his wardrobe door, pulling off his tie and the stiff collar. He hung up his jacket, unbuttoned the waistcoat and put it away. When he opened the upper buttons of his shirt the persistent idea caught him finally. Watching his undressing reflection he saw himself through the eyes of an enamoured, lustful _grown_ _man,_ and somehow his beauty, which he had been very aware of since his early youth, appeared different. Shifted onto a shadowy territory of uncertainty, like it depended on the beholder how he existed. 

With girls his looks had been his power, his magic to lure them into his arms. But now _he_ was the target, the object of hungry eyes, the one being chased. He shuddered, his lips fell open in silent inhalation.

_This is how he sees me. No wonder._

The pleasure he felt watching himself was a new sort. Slowly he opened the rest of the buttons with one hand, the other caressing down the revealed skin in its wake. He could imagine Thomas staring at him in awe, unable to hide his want. He could imagine his hand being Thomas’ instead. His eyes closed on their own as the scandalous thought travelled the short distance from his fingertips to his cock.

Thomas had gone with Mr. Carson who had insisted on briefing him on his new responsibilities right away even though it was late and they all had been slaving away at the cricket field. It didn’t seem fair, them being the heroes of the victorious house team, but that was the life of those downstairs.

_I might pop in to see him when he comes up._

The thought woke only slight resistance in Jimmy’s mind. He spared a frown at this possibly being an alarming sign of further corruption.

_We’re pals again. It’s perfectly fine to visit._

He was tingling with nervous exhilaration, the same feeling that had followed him all day except now it was stronger tenfold and very urgent. He vaguely realized he didn’t even consider other options, for he couldn’t possibly get any sleep in this state.

The sounds of conversation in the hallway startled him from the fantasy and the merciless rules of reality surged back into his mind, stirring up the shame and the fear to ruin his mood. What if someone somehow guessed his dirty inclinations? Many seemed to know about Thomas being different, but he wouldn’t have told them himself, never. So how had they come about the knowledge, then?

_“Good night, Mr. Barrow, and congratulations again. May you prove worthy of the promotion.”_

_“Good night, Mr. Carson.”_

Jimmy tiptoed to his door and listened. Carson’s door closed quietly as a solemn prayer. Then there were footsteps past his door and the sound of the communal bathroom door creak open and shut again.

A sudden realization made him forget the worrisome thoughts and hurry the rest of his clothes off, put them neatly on a chair and leave the brushing down for tomorrow. He poured water on the basin and wiped some of the sweat haphazardly off his skin with a cloth but most importantly he washed his half-woken manhood. Just in case.

A short rap of fingertips against his door startled him. He put on his night clothes with trembling hands and quietly went to peep outside. There was no-one there, the dark corridor was empty.

Mr. Barrow’s door, mere steps away from his, was slightly ajar.

The pull towards it was tangible like he was leaning downhill. His heart was dancing Charleston up his throat and his hands were clammy.

  
  
  


****

  
  
  


Thomas ran his fingers through his damp hair, tousling it just so by accident. His blood was pumping with speed not tolerable in the long run, keeping him on high alert, not letting him feel the very likely and frankly much deserved tiredness after the long day. It was going to smash him like a hangover when this clandestine business was over, one way or another. 

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, not trusting his legs to support him. The late night invitation was a risk and a gamble again, he knew well enough. Any day now, any moment even, the younger man with several good options for his future would tire of their game. Thomas was certain of it, yet he loved every second of the slow seduction. Another part of him, one that was gaining ever more confidence, trusted the instinctual knowledge of Jimmy being slowly ensnared in his web of attraction. He could feel the thread of invisible connection between them strengthen every time he got the boy to blush or laugh, every time he showed off a titbit of knowledge or opened the forbidden book of erotica. Getting him off in many delightful ways was a rare treat in itself but getting Jimmy to accept him as he was mattered even more.

Jimmy Kent was proud and a little vain but Thomas could detect when he had made an impression on him. 

The door clicked shut. A relieved and happy smile spread on the under-butler’s face but he reined half of it in before turning his face towards the visitor. His desire to act natural around Jimmy had a strong rival in his urge to sweep him completely off his feet.

What a sight the boy was. Stunningly beautiful as ever, but something new was accentuating it tonight. His gaze didn’t waver, there was determination and curiosity in his blue eyes even though he remained leaning against the door like last time, still uncertain about being an active player. Thomas sat there and drank in everything that was marvellous in that moment: Jimmy’s blushed cheeks, the fact that he answered his invitation by yet again daring to come into his room at night, and that this was the third time it had happened. That somehow sealed the affair as, well, an affair for real.

“Jimmy. Here to celebrate us getting ahead in the world?”

“Do you have champagne, then? That would be swell,” he flashed a lopsided, half-nervous grin.

“As it happens, I do.” He dug out a bottle wrapped in brown paper from under his cot.

“Yer kidding,” the boy breathed, delighted. Thomas nudged his head towards the door.

“Turn the key, we ought not to get caught drinking,” he said, totally casual and rational, nothing suspicious about it at all, no sir. Jimmy did as told and stepped briskly to the older man to investigate the possible luxury. Thomas peeled the wrapping off revealing an opened bottle of – indeed – the golden sparkling wine. It was half full.

“I thought just this once I’d nick what they had left over. I’m afraid it’s not the right temperature anymore, honourable Mr. Kent, and we’re out of champagne glasses.”

“I hardly care,” he grinned, snatching the bottle and taking a swig. It wasn’t as good as he remembered from that one time with Lady Anstruther but he wasn’t about to complain. It warmed him pleasantly, soothing his nerves, elevating him from the mundane drudgery for a moment.

Thomas watched him drink and sigh in a happy manner, like that lukewarm leftover liquid from the better folk really was something magnificent.

“Hm, it’s not too bad on the second go,” Jimmy mused and took a third helping, wiping his mouth on his night shirt’s sleeve and handing the bottle to the new under-butler.

“Yeah, it grows on you fast,” Thomas smiled and drank too, hoping he would have the same fate, fast or slow. Bringing the bottle down on his lap he licked around the lip of it in passing, gathering any escaping droplets like pleasuring a lover. He closed his eyes and hummed low, knowing his every move was being watched. After a moment he opened his eyes and caught the boy exactly as he had wished, staring at him but quickly averting his darkened eyes, lips forgotten sensually half open. Thomas knew he couldn’t yet ask him over, couldn’t use candid words that would reveal they were in accord about certain things; the steps had to happen as if by chance, they had to find themselves in situations rather than jump readily into them.

He offered the bottle back to Jimmy, holding it ever so sneakily close to himself so the other had to take a step forward to reach it. Jimmy’s hands were shaking. Suddenly it felt daring to put something between his lips, Mr. Barrow sitting so close. He swallowed his hesitation with the last drops of the bubbly drink.

_I’m good-looking as heck and he has a crush on me. I can wrap him around my little finger._

Placing the emptied bottle on the nightstand he met the grey eyes with a provocative and nearly coquettish air about him. That was enough. Thomas reached forward and hooked his fingers under the waistband of Jimmy’s pyjama pants, pulling him towards himself, trembling with want and fear.

Frowning, the boy let it happen.


	10. Chapter 10

_“There’s this… thing I’m very, very good at,”_ Mr. Barrow whispered. He had lowered his eyelids, playing coy, hiding his fear of rejection like a champion. _“I could show you if you want.”_

His fingers lingered under Jimmy’s waistband, unmoving except for the tremble. To the first footman however he seemed perfectly in control, intimidating in his self-confidence, sinfully beautiful with the damp strands of dark hair falling over his eyes and his lips licked wet. Right there, very different from his sleek everyday appearance, Thomas looked like a leading man of a romantic film.

Heart slamming against his ribs Jimmy inhaled as quietly as he could and opened his mouth to answer. He didn’t know what he was going to say so it was just as well that the only thing coming out of him was an undignified, surprised squeak. Thomas had slid his hand under the pyjama shirt and his palm felt scorching hot against the young man’s abdomen. It was exactly like he had imagined before the mirror, except ten times more arousing, and he hadn’t foreseen the sudden muteness that resulted from it. His midriff spasmed together with his rising cock, and the knowledge of Mr. Barrow definitely noticing it only heightened his thrill. _God help me._

Thomas could but marvel at the firm muscles under his touch. Ah, he’d been like that himself once, young and perfectly in shape – and he was still very athletic especially for his age, what with him not having a wife to pamper him with home cooked meals. But a certain softness around the gut was inevitable.

Jimmy’s obvious want was making him dizzy. Shrugging off any doubts Thomas caressed up his chest, pulling him closer with the other hand on the trouser laces. He spread his knees wider for Jimmy to fit standing between them and nudged his hips closer to the bed’s edge. Finally he lifted his eyes up to see Jimmy breathe through his angelic lips, nearly panting, not knowing where to put his hands. _And I haven’t even begun._

_“What d’you say, hmm?”_ he prompted quietly. Opening the lazy knot of the pyjama pants was met with no resistance at all; when his roaming hand took a firm hold of the boy’s hip he heard a gasp.

_“What... is it, then?”_ Jimmy managed, desperately trying to sound calm. That was a lost cause and he knew it. Thomas had him by the short hairs, and he wanted more, wanted to say _yes,_ but even in this state he daren’t go in blindly. _It’s something different than last time. What if he means those lewd and painful acts?_

“You remember how... we talked about girls not doing what you wanted them to?” He slipped his hand into Jimmy’s pants, knuckles brushing over the coarse pubic hair. It delighted him to no end when he felt something poke upwards against his fingertips.

“Of course I do, yes.” Jimmy’s throat felt tight. _Touch me,_ his mind was screaming and he might have been startled by obscenity like that in himself on a normal day but those seemed to be forever behind him. Thomas chuckled as if he had heard it.

“Well,” he drawled, gently wrapping his fingers around the hidden beast and easing it out of the confinement of the garment, making Jimmy shudder. “No God-fearing gal would do _this_ to you.” Jimmy was fully erect, the swollen head peeking out of the hood, gleaming. Thomas’ mouth watered at the sight and he was as stiff and leaking himself. The low bed ensured he only had to bend down slightly for his face to be close enough. _Oh, so good._

Hovering his lips near the proud crown he added in whisper, _“Probably not even if you married her.”_ He watched as realization dawned on the young handsome face, the eyebrows not knowing which way to go. Thomas waited, squeezing the root gently, coaxing it to throb back at him. He inhaled Jimmy’s musk and hummed in bliss. 

To give a sample and an incentive he opened his lips and slowly dragged a wet kiss along the side of the velvety length.

_“Fuck,”_ Jimmy uttered, spasming.

“May I?” 

His tongue was already darting for it when he got the speechless nod of permission.

Nothing Jimmy had ever felt – or imagined – compared to the seventh heaven of those sinful lips enclosing around the head of his cock. The warmth, the wetness, the squeeze felt so much like a cunt but the sucking and licking was what nearly drove him mad with heat. Thomas swallowed him slowly, lips sliding expertly on the weighty member, sucking as he went. 

Jimmy watched as his flesh disappeared into that mouth. It looked utterly scandalous, perverted and wrong, and so very erotic that his knees were buckling under him. The older man tightened his hold on his hipbone, steadying him as he pulled his mouth off. Jimmy’s pyjama pants fell around his ankles.

“You better sit down... if you want me to continue.”

_“God, yes,”_ he hissed, common sense and shame flown out the window. The clergymen and the coppers could bugger off with their laws, this was the absolute bee’s knees. Thomas stood up, flipped their positions and sat Jimmy down on the bed kneeling before him. Without delay he spread the young man’s thighs and lunged between them like in hunger.

Jimmy’s eyes kept falling shut with the intensity of the sensation but he needed to see it, needed to ground himself in reality, as stupefying as it was right now, for he felt otherwise he would fall into a bottomless void. The pressure building in his loins was phenomenal and watching the clever mouth devour him only stimulated it further. Thomas’ occasional moans reverberated against Jimmy’s girth. He wasn’t going to last five minutes.

_He loves doing it,_ his helpless mind observed. _He really enjoys sucking my prick like it were a candy cane._

Thomas felt the boy teeter on the edge already and slowed down. His skills, perfected with the voracious Duke, might just be too much for the first-timer.

_“Breathe deep, think of yer granny.”_

“Uh, what?”

“Shh.” Thomas pulled open the laces of his own flannel pants with his left hand. He removed the glove covering his wound yanking it with his teeth, a manoeuvre which distracted Jimmy enough to put a frown on his brow.

_“Don’t want this to be over too soon,”_ Thomas whispered with a lopsided smile. He was already feeling easy enough in Jimmy’s company to just push his hand into his own pants while the first footman looked on. The boy wasn’t really in a position to complain about flashing.

_”What’re you–”_ Jimmy sounded mildly worried seeing Thomas pull his prick out. It looked painfully hard and the under-butler groaned as he tugged it with his loose fist.

”You know I won’t do anything against your will,” he reminded the boy and took him in his mouth again, shutting up any remarks or questions as well as himself efficiently. What he said was mostly true, save for some occasions when he had to push a little to break through the conditioned resistance. 

Oh, it felt too good. He’d been near exploding already but touching himself while pleasuring a partner was a certain route to a fast climax. During the great war he’d found himself often in this situation with an officer or another, and he had enjoyed it, all things considered. Because of his cunning he hadn’t ended up being court-marshalled for lewdness or thrown in a ditch with broken bones; on the contrary, he’d been valued in an unspoken way the longer the war went on. He showed discretion, skill and willingness. He was never short of cigarettes or tea.

As much as he tried to prolong the sweetest moment, he soon felt Jimmy tremble and breathe in a certain manner he might have shared had he not been gagged so magnificently. He sped up jerking himself, matching it to the up-and-down bobbing of his head. He whined in his throat feeling the tide rise, both his and Jimmy’s. The boy held a hand tightly over his mouth when he came, hips twitching erratically, muffled whimpers of pleasure escaping through his fingers. Thomas was swept along as he swallowed everything, blinded, blissful, simultaneously trying to aim his load somewhere under the bed. 

_”Shit,”_ Jimmy cursed after a period of breathless silence, unable to express his opinion otherwise. He stared at the older man in front of him, down on his knees, licking his sensitized prick clean like a humbled servant. Yet there was no doubt which of them held the ropes and showed the way.

_”Glad you enjoyed that,”_ Thomas whispered daringly, glancing up at him with genuine bedroom eyes. This was the critical moment when normal men usually panicked realizing what they had let happen. Jimmy flumped on the bed, spent and amazed. It would be useless and just plain rude to keep up a pretend distance between them after this.

_”Damn.”_

“I wonder if your lady lover ever did this to you,” Thomas continued conversationally, aiming to diffuse any awkwardness that might rear its head, and guide them back to their comradery. “After all she was a worldly widow, not a shy village gal.”

_“Oh, never!”_ Jimmy exclaimed in whisper and sat up, curiosity winning over any embarrassment. _”How can you – how’d you – oh, I don’t get it!”_ He shook his head and grinned with the force of his satisfied, relaxed body. Thomas chuckled quietly and pulled up his pants, getting on his wobbly feet to retrieve a cloth to be sacrificed in cleaning the floor. He’d have to wash it himself later.

”What’s that you don’t get?” he feigned.

”It ain’t _fair_ that this – what you did – feels so damn _good.”_

The boy wasn’t making a move to leave. Thomas felt a warm splash of joy in his chest. ”Well, there has to be _some_ upside to being an outcast,” he said without much bitterness.

”How can you do that? Don’t it make you feel sick?”

”Did it look like that to you?”

“No, you – uh –” Jimmy trailed off and busied himself with closing his pants. If he weren’t already red in the face he might have blushed some more. _“Shite.”_

_“Say it,”_ Thomas dared with a dark, velvety voice. Jimmy snapped his gaze up to him and frowned. He spotted the challenge, a test of sorts. He stood up which located him right in front of the older man, quite close actually. Defiantly, he looked into his eyes and flashed a charmer’s smile.

_“You bloody liked it.”_ His drained cock already showed renewed interest in repeating the act. The under-butler nodded, head held high and smirking. Jimmy was caught, hook, line, and sinker.


End file.
